


Three Chances: A Story in Three Parts.

by Firelord124



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-23
Updated: 2020-02-23
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:00:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22858168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Firelord124/pseuds/Firelord124
Summary: A look at three separate stages of Shuichi Saihara's life, all of which were intertwined with the life of Kaede Akamatsu.
Relationships: Akamatsu Kaede/Saihara Shuichi
Comments: 5
Kudos: 16





	Three Chances: A Story in Three Parts.

Part 1

There it was again.

Shuichi stopped typing on his laptop, and sat perfectly still. From where he was sitting, he could hear a faint melody issuing from the window beside him.

Someone was playing the piano. It was a baritone sound, playful and yet serious, with the consistency of molten gold. Shuichi remained still, and tried to restrain himself from making any noise that could drown out the notes.

It was a warm summer evening, and Shuichi felt at ease with himself; no less due to the fact that he was currently on break. Well, perhaps loosely “on break”. He still had a load of paperwork to do, which his uncle, a registered detective, had generously provided him. Shuichi was just starting out in the profession, but he still liked to think of himself as the next ultimate detective, akin to Sherlock Holmes, whose office would be inundated with cases from all around the world. He occasionally immersed himself in his fantasies; the possibilities were endless. 

The music was getting fainter now, as the melody reached its end, and softly faded out, leaving only the sound of the crickets. Somewhere beyond the window, Shuichi heard someone in a nearby flat talking raucously into their phone.

Shuichi had first come across the music when he moved into his flat; it was located in an old suburb, that was close to the largest town in the region. His neighbors tended also to be young and in their twenties; young couples just moving in, or lonely singles coping with the demands of a first job, or studying, or both. He especially thought of Kaito, a neighbor roughly around his age, who moved in just a month before he did, into the flat next door. Kaito was a bit of both worlds; he had ambition, and he had the grades for it. Shuichi remembered that Kaito was also not lost when it came to finding a partner; he caught sight of a dignified, quiet young girl following him into the flat on numerous occasions.

It was on a Sunday evening that he first heard it. He was still settling into his flat, and was just starting to put all his books onto the bookshelf beside his desk, when he caught the end of it. It reached through the window, and to him, beckoning him to look outside for the player. To his dismay, he could not see any person outside, let alone in the nearby flats. Besides, the music was soft enough that he could only hear it if he remained completely silent. While the music played, he reached into the carton, and continued to pull out piles of books. He found himself running a thoughtful hand through a worn copy of _The Mystery of the Yellow Room_ , which was responsible for his obsession with being a detective, and flipping through _The Murders in the Rue Morgue_. He finally realised that he was distracted by the music, when he saw that he had been holding _In Cold Blood_ for almost half an hour. 

This time, he wisely stopped his work, until the concert was complete.

\---

“I dunno, bro. You want to meet his person just because you liked what they played?”

Kaito frowned at Shuichi, and skeptically raised an eyebrow.

“This could be _anyone_ , Shuichi. From a middle-school kid practising piano, to an elderly person in their retirement. What if they are actually a-”

Shuichi decided to stop his friend, before Kaito could launch into a spiel of conspiracy theories.

“No, Kaito. They’re probably just around our age. I’ve heard them playing. It sounded - It sounded like-”

Kaito held up a hand.

“Alright, Shuichi. Say they’re our age. What then? How would we find them? It’s a large building after all.”

Shuichi bit back a hasty reply, unsure how to proceed. There could be a dozen piano players for all he knew. The music was too faint to precisely identify where the pianist was in the building, and putting out a flyer could be, well, weird.

“Just imagine it!” Kaito said suddenly. “‘Do you play the piano on Sunday evenings? Can you breathe and are a human? If so, send a reply to this number! Warm regards, a guy who _really_ needs some friends.’”

“Hey!” Shuichi spluttered, not for the first time annoyed at his friend’s recklessness. Kaito’s grin slowly faded. He began to look sheepish.

“Sorry, Shuichi. But it is true! And I want to see my sidekicks happy, with well-connected friends!”

Shuichi bit back the first reply that came to mind: “Are you implying that you are not _‘well connected’_?”. He was trying to see how it could be done. Although Kaito had thoughtlessly said it, his remark was on point. Shuichi had met Kaito by accident, when he had tripped over a skateboard that the other had left, inconspicuously outside his flat. If not for that, Kaito could have just been another stranger. No one else would have talked to him, and would have seen him only as the reserved, quiet man with the downcast eyes. If he was lucky, no one would associate him with anything at all sinister or secretive. It was a lucky thing that the skateboard appeared where it did.

He was lonely. There was no avoiding it. Shuichi had the feeling that the world, somehow, was passing him by. After seeing Kaito with his girlfriend, and all those bright young things at cafes, chatting lazily and flirting with some of the younger waiters, going on trips and the such, he felt that he had prematurely aged. 

“I think that there _must_ be some way,” he managed at last, aware of the painful fact that he was going in circles with his wishful thinking: “I just can’t put my finger on it.”

Kaito gave him a sympathetic look, that clearly was aimed at preparing Shuichi for the worst.

“Look, even I have a piano in my flat, Shuichi! There’s no knowing how many-”

Shuichi’s eyes widened. That was the key.

“Of course! That’s it!”

“What’s _it_?” Kaito said, nervous from the excitement that shone from the other’s eyes. 

“You have a piano in your flat, Kaito! If you’d allow me to borrow it-”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Kaito said, backtracking quickly and frantically gesturing his arms. “It’s good and all to be excited, but first-”

For once, Shuichi didn’t wait for Kaito to finish.

“-and I can send out flyers asking for piano tutoring!”

“-you poor sod. You’ve really got it bad, haven’t you?”

“What?” Shuichi said, astonished at the skepticism written on Kaito’s face.

“How do you expect that they would even be interested in tutoring? Or, that the right one will turn up?”

“I’ll say that I’m available on Sunday afternoons, just before the time when they start playing. Please, Kaito. Just this once. You did want me to make new acquaintances, didn’t you?”

Kaito silently thought about it, before inclining his head.

“Sure, Shuichi. It’s the least I could do for my sidekick, even _if_ it’s a wild goose chase.”

“Thank you so much, Kaito! I really appreciate it, if I can do anything to repay-”

“Just don’t break the piano, and we’ll call it even.”

\---

It was fortunate that Kaito lived next door to Shuichi, as moving the piano was not an easy task. It was, as Kaito repeated to him numerous times, an antique item. Some of the wooden panels were worn and discoloured, and as he pushed it into place beside the bookshelf, he could swear some of them moved. But it was a piano, and for that he was grateful. Perhaps the mystery person liked antiques.  
He started working on the poster, scoffing internally at Kaito’s imagined version. Of course his poster would not be like that.

\---

Through the first week, Shuichi had prank calls and calls that were indecipherable gibberish. Other calls were just plain abuse.

The second week passed by, with much the same result. Kaito could only look on in concern, as Shuichi grew further and further into himself. His eyes grew downcast, and he remained more isolated than ever, choosing to continually remain in his room. He had been much too optimistic, and with each call, Shuichi became more demotivated. 

His uncle still kept up the stream of work, however. It was not as if Shuichi could afford to spend his entire time in front of the phone, waiting for it to ring. He was brought back to reality with each email, and each page that was printed out, or scanned. Then, came the clincher. The stream of work turned into a flood. Emails rushed into his inbox, competing for space. The calls grew more and more sporadic. 

The day after that, in the foyer of the apartment complex and at surrounding locations, a lone figure could be seen hurriedly tearing down posters advertising the piano tutoring. The figure was wearing entirely black, and had on a dark hat. It avoided communication with passers-by, and worked silently, with its face hidden.

Kaito’s piano was back in its original spot the next day.

On the Sunday after that, the tinkling piano music continued once more. However, if anything, it seemed to be softer than before. Soon, it stopped completely, and Sunday evenings became any other day.

Part 2

“And these are the files for the cases we’ve had for the last five years. Any questions?”

Shuichi turned to the man behind the desk, and shook his head no. Alone with his uncle, he had managed to take off his hat; he rarely did that nowadays. It was indeed lucky that his uncle was well-established, as it had been difficult for Shuichi to find anyone else who would give him the same opportunity. Part of the problem was his reluctance to take off his hat, and his tendency to shrink into himself. It wasn’t the most inviting thing for a prospective employer to see.

The past few years had been difficult on him; the last few years of study were spent mostly alone, in the quietest areas of the library, in locations that were either difficult to access, or locations which few people knew about. He enjoyed the silence. It meant less people to interact with. He could almost pretend to himself that he was the last person on earth, and nothing else mattered.

After somehow graduating, Shuichi found himself thrust into the world beyond. It felt draining, and he found himself suddenly facing stern hiring employers from across a desk, or staring down into his coffee, feeling the wisps of steam brush his cheeks. He had been thinking too much of noir films beforehand, with their wise-talking detectives, smoking cigars and peering from the corners of buildings. It was after the tenth application that he reached for the phone, and offered assistance to his uncle. So far, he had appreciated his uncle's decision to take him on.

If he could look through the work that he was given, that is. 

The work was to act as an introduction to the skills that he would acquire as a junior detective. Shuichi was to act as a backup to his uncle, assisting him in talking with clients and paperwork regarding the different cases. However, some of the gleam was wearing off. He had moved from his flat, to reside with his uncle ( _temporarily_ , he told himself), and had to, naturally, put all thoughts of it from his mind. With this springboard, he hoped that things would look up. 

Of course, one occasional memory stung, and it always did, when he inadvertently turned his mind back to it. 

His uncle was talking again, striding about the office, clearly worked up about something. This was bad; it seemed like he was on a discourse, and expected Shuichi to keep up to date with what he was saying. Perhaps there would be questions at the end. 

“-and so I want you to meet up with our contact, seeing he’s about your age. I took the time to contact him, and he should be available this afternoon for a meeting. Make sure you get what’s required.”

Shuichi remembered nodding, before being issued a thin file, and ushered quickly from the office. He briefly scanned its contents, pulled his cap lower over his face and scampered across the street, towards a nearby cafe. It was a cosy but dreary and backwater place, with plush chairs and old-fashioned tablecloths, plus a selection of cakes and delicacies that, by design, seemed to be following a bygone trend. The store itself seemed like it couldn’t keep up, and decided to give up, and defiantly show itself for the relic it was.

The shop was almost empty when Shuichi entered, save for a girl by the counter, absent-mindedly scrubbing away at the dull surface. She was wearing a lopsided name badge that said 'Kaede' in official letters. Seeing Shuichi, she nervously started to put away the cloth.

“Can I help you?”

Shuichi took a quick glance at the board beside him, with the menu inscribed on it in fading letters. Keeping his eyes on the board, he quickly ordered the first thing he saw, giving his name for reference.

He kept his eyes on the board, until the girl moved away, and tried to keep his expression blank, as he took his order. The coffee had a warm, inviting feel. He saw, only then, that the girl was discreetly looking at him. Making no comment, he turned his attention to the tables, and saw that only one was occupied. He hurried towards it. 

The person at the table looked up as he approached, and broke into a smile.

“Shuichi Saihara, right? I’m the contact, Rantaro Amami.”

Rantaro extended a hand, but Shuichi seemed to miss it. Quizzically, Rantaro invited Shuichi to sit opposite him. Shuichi caught a glimpse of a green-haired boy, in a striped shirt, with a casual, outgoing attitude. 

“Your uncle must have explained this to you already, so I’ll keep this brief. I have been with your client-”  
Rantaro suddenly stopped. Shuichi, for once, looked up at the person standing beside the table.

It was the girl from before, but this time, she seemed more flustered, which Shuichi didn’t think was possible. She was holding something in her hand.

“You forgot your wallet, Shuichi.”

She slid the wallet on the table, and before either Shuichi or Rantaro could react, swept silently away from the table.

“Rather careless of you, Shuichi,” Rantaro admonished, observing the girl as she strode back to the counter. Shuichi made no reply. He kept his eyes on the table, and only occasionally lifted them to ensure that the other boy was still there. He heard Rantaro sigh. 

“Aren’t you going to take note of what I’m going to say?”

“Yes, of course,” Shuichi said, giving a quick, reassuring smile. He opened his bag, and took out a small notepad, and a worn-out pencil.

From the next few minutes, Shuichi gathered that Rantaro had worked closely with his uncle’s client for a number of years. Rantaro had first come across the client in university together, and they had joined together with other friends, to form a small startup that centred around travel agencies and exploring exotic destinations, which was now experiencing some financial difficulties, though Rantaro wasn’t showing any signs of stress. _He does seem like the type_ , Shuichi thought to himself. Rantaro was a mystery, but he was nonetheless soothing, and got along well with most people. 

“The two of you seem quite close,” Shuichi commented, as he turned another page in his notebook. Rantaro paused briefly.

“We were. It pays a lot to have people who look out for you.” Rantaro turned towards Shuichi. “I wouldn’t have been where I am now without him.”

Shuichi felt a growing unease inside of him; the comment had struck some hidden nerve, he could tell. Looking at the way Rantaro was gazing at him, Shuichi could tell that Rantaro saw it too. He felt himself becoming more annoyed, and hastily continued to press on with the interview. Nevertheless, the other boy’s eyes were on him the entire time. 

A faint sound of the front door opening and closing came to him, and he looked to the front of the store; the girl had just gone out; presumably, her shift had just ended.

“It’s her last day, I believe,” Shuichi heard Rantaro say; “She’s been working here ever since I’ve heard of this cafe. The only amiable staff member in my eyes. Really cares about the customers; of course, that may be because she’s about our age, and still young. But you should hear her play that piano.” He gestured to a shoddy, decaying piano at one corner of the room. “Doesn’t look like much, but when she starts playing, it sounds like the best piano in the world. Really lightens the mood, and-”

Shuichi felt his hands tighten, and his throat constrict. He remembered when he was back at the flat, living alongside Kaito. When he had been full of hope. When he had heard the piano notes for the first time.

For the first time, he looked up, and locked eyes with Rantaro, who looked astonished at the sudden action and vigour on behalf of the young detective. 

“It’s her last day, did you say?”

Part 3

Shuichi groaned, as the printer beside him gurgled, and spat out page after page of documents that needed to be signed, approved, and stapled. He wondered if he would be reprimanded if he decided to pour his coffee into the machinery.

He would not have believed it ten years ago, that he would be working as a police sergeant at the local station. And the job didn’t ask for fieldwork, either. It asked for a love of needlessly long and dreary paperwork, and, of course, of an ability to contribute to the paperwork by writing a few pages himself.

Somehow, it didn’t tally with what he hoped for. He had desired after the thrill that came from consulting with forensics about a crime scene, about tracking down and interrogating suspects. Now, however, it seemed that he was only a witness to these. Other people did them, and he trailed after them to do the paperwork. He was the passive observer, who approved of other people’s actions.

It had been five years since he had entered the cafe, to find the contact for his uncle. In that time, things went about as well as you’d expect. His present job had presented itself on a bulletin board for careers. He had chosen it because it involved working with the police, and the police may require someone of his kind, an up and coming detective. Of course, reality chose once again to interfere with his life. 

Across the room, behind the door, Shuichi could hear the sound of hurried footsteps, from the room adjacent. The commissioner was in a rush about something; perhaps some new case. 

The door burst open, and the commissioner strode out. He took one look around the room, before heading for Shuichi.

“Saihara; I’ve got something for you.”

This was unexpected. Shuichi looked at the lamp next to the commissioner, who continued:

“I need someone to get to the hospital immediately; a witness to an incident had been gravely injured, and we need her supervised, until she recovers enough to give her testimony. Unfortunately, the people who usually do these operations are already occupied, so it falls to you.”

Shuichi felt himself brightening; perhaps this was the day. He could prove to the commissioner that he was capable of doing fieldwork, and he would be considered the next time there was a position opening.

If the commissioner had this thought in mind, he didn’t acknowledge it. Remaining grim-faced, he gave a sheet with the address of the hospital, along with the ward that the witness was in.

\---

Shuichi hurried down the corridor of the hospital, trying to avoid the nurses and doctors bustling about. He tried to keep behind his guide, who was instructed to lead him to the area of the hospital where the witness was. Shuichi had a sinking feeling as soon as he saw that the guide was leading him to the emergency operations area.

They eventually reached a large double door. The guide turned round, his eyes grim.

“I see no reason to keep this from you, Saihara, but I’m afraid that the witness is under a critical condition, and we do not expect her to survive for much longer. Even now, I think she has only got a few minutes left.”

Shuichi turned pale, and tried to formulate a reply. The guide gave him a sympathetic look, and put an arm around him. 

“We did all we could do. I’m sorry.”

With that, he pushed open the doors, and Shuichi entered the room. The powerful smell of disinfectant hung in the air, but apart from that, there was no other difference to the room he had just left. He had been expecting a change in atmosphere, that signalled that life was steadily draining away, leaving the body. But his eyes were instantly caught by the figure on the bed.

It was the girl from the cafe. She had visibly only aged slightly from before, but on closer examination, her face revealed that she had suffered an intense period of stress and misfortune. They were now closed, and Shuichi felt urgently the strong, maniacal desire to jump on the bed, and force them open. He wanted to see them open, life return to her body, which now lay limp on the white bedsheets. Now, the only sign that she was still alive was the slight movement of her chest, as she breathed. 

The guide beside him moved slightly.

“From what she managed to tell us, and from her personal records, we gather that she was working as a music teacher at a local primary school. She was struck down in a hit-and-run incident a week ago, while making her way to the police station for a consultation. The vehicle in question has not yet been identified, but we’re doing all we can. We started by-”

The guide continued, as Shuichi stood entranced by the patient. He realised that there were a bunch of flowers on the nightstand, as well as a row of cards, undoubtedly from friends and relatives. There was also something at the centre, but it was obscured by the other items. Moving closer, Shuichi realised that it was a small music player. A small light was blinking on the device, an indication that it was low on battery power. 

The guide noticed that Shuichi was looking at the device.

“She used to listen to it quite a lot when she was here, before she, well-”

Looking at Shuichi, the guide trailed off, as Shuichi automatically pressed the play button on the device.

A soft, faint melody issued from the speaker, barely audible. But Shuichi was dumbstruck. He was suddenly brought back ten years, to when he was listening to them for the first time, when it was just as faint, on bright, hopeful Sunday evenings. When he had high ambitions for himself, and dreamt of a life he now realised that he could not lead.  
Shuichi suddenly realised that he was suddenly crying, tears leaking from his eyes, and all the while the music continued to play, but gradually fading away as the power died.

Shuichi thought of nothing else as the music winded down; it consumed him entirely. Then, a single thought flashed across his mind, and he shut his eyes.

_This could have but happened once,_

As the last note played and echoed across the room, The patient on the bed breathed her last.

_And we missed it, lost it forever._

**Author's Note:**

> "This could but have happened once,  
> And we missed it, lost it for ever."  
> -Robert Browning


End file.
